


the color of solitude

by Matloc



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Flowers, M/M, Weird, but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-16 11:44:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4624140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Matloc/pseuds/Matloc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loneliness tends to resemble the grim sky when it's about to rain.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Seijuurou’s jaw trembles but remains locked shut, he’s witnessing an anomaly that sets a flower at the foot of his mother’s grave and dissipates as quickly as it came, like fog.</p>
  <p>On the stone lies a sunflower with all its petals ripped off.</p>
</blockquote>
            </blockquote>





	the color of solitude

The first time he sees the apparition is during his mother’s funeral. The sky accompanies Seijuurou with dark grey clouds as a tombstone stares at him with somber words. It’s engraved with hollow letters he doesn’t fully grasp, but his mother's name feels like cold breath over the dried tear tracks on his cheeks.

The sensation doesn’t fade, a child he may be but even he can recognize the touch of loneliness, or perhaps the ice on his skin is symbolic in itself. Of innocence dying amidst the reflection of fire, dual-colored eyes dried up and empty. They’re gravelly with emotion eroded of color, and childhood is a husk he silently discards while his limbs are still tender.

If he starts running now, Seijuurou thinks he might just tear them off.

Instead he simply turns with the intent to leave, and in that one short moment where he takes a deep breath, a tall figure materializes right in front of his eyes. He steps out of a pocket of air, one bare leg at a time, shadowed by an old tunic that ends at his thighs. His hair looks like snow dipped in a summer sky and the blank gaze he rests on the child is a genuine reflection of it.

Seijuurou’s jaw trembles but remains locked shut, he’s witnessing an anomaly that sets a flower at the foot of his mother’s grave and dissipates as quickly as it came, like fog.

On the stone lies a sunflower with all its petals ripped off.

♣

It is not until a decade later that Seijuurou actually registers those ethereal features, when the apparition fazes into vision once more, this time at his father’s grave. The skies are heavy with the same clouds from back then. He can feel their weight on his shoulders, the drag from the past as he waits in silence.

Age begets change in perception, which now takes note of how slim those legs are when they appear first. The tunic is worn at the edges, clinging to milky thighs as if putting on a show, but never delivering because of the watered-down translucence that pares his bony frame. His existence wavers on the edge between glowing and vanishing, both equally unearthly but Seijuurou cannot look away.

They lock gazes on equal height this time, a flash of recognition quirks on the faded pink of his lips, almost missing Seijuurou’s eye. He didn’t factor that in when he envisioned this encounter, in the tatters of hazy dreams he still holds on to. The ghost recognizing him, remembering him, he has hoped for but never anticipated.

Neither try to act upon this oddity, and the brief moment of transcendence quietly passes when, like before, the blue-haired man dissolves into air.

This time it leaves a camellia on top of the grave, its rotting black petals slowly wilt over the concrete surface.

♣

A light jingle of bells is the only sound to invade this coffee shop devoid of life. Behind the counter sits the owner wiping a pristine little cup, though he is not quite alive. Neither is Seijuurou.

“Welcome,” he greets tonelessly, without looking up. He doesn’t need to. This shop has no customers.

Seijuurou stops at the counter, resting an elbow on the shiny surface as he leans in some. “I take it you remember me, then?”

There’s a pause, blue eyes lifting from the cup to peek through dark lashes. “I wish you hadn’t.” He says without a trace of malice, but truth underlines it all the same with the boldness of blood. “Excuse my rudeness; you came too early.”

“I am not fond of wasting time,” replies Seijuurou.

“I never asked you to end yourself.” There’s a soft bite to his words, though aimed more at himself.

“You didn’t,” Seijuurou says with a nod, “If you  _had_  asked for my life back then, I would never have given it to you.”

“I am sorry the mere sight of me has driven you to such incredulous heights of foolishness.” The other sets the cup down with a gentle clink. He traces flower patterns along its length, a wreath of colors infusing into porcelain as it follows the tip of his finger. “May I ask what you’ve come here for?”

“How cruel, Tetsuya.” Seijuurou offers a sly smile. “After killing me in my previous life, you leave me alone in this one?”

The smile never leaves his face because Tetsuya can’t say anything to that. He can only bite his lip, stare into the air looking so clueless that Seijuurou has to hold back the urge to just dive in and steal a kiss from him. He’s always had a penchant for catching Tetsuya off guard, but perhaps this is not the best time.

A flower pops out of nowhere, a single stroke of color in the air. The stem slides into Tetsuya’s grip, and with a blank face he hands it over to the intruder.

“Welcome back.”

Glistening red it sits on Seijuurou’s palm, a blooming rose, the most beautiful he has ever seen.

 


End file.
